Trainspotting
by Violintide
Summary: In which a clerk at King's Cross has a change of routine one early September day after meeting the Marauders.


[Trainspotting]  
  
By Jennifer M.  
  
peropero@inorbit.com  
  
http://www.hatsuyume.net  
  
[things in parentheses are thoughts.]  
  
--  
  
"Two pounds, please. Thank you, straight through."  
  
"Two pounds, please. Thank you, straight through."  
  
"Wrong gate, sir, you'll be wanting to go to gate 10."  
  
"Two pounds, please. Thank you, straight through."  
  
Only three weeks had passed since she'd taken this job, and already she knew that it was three weeks too many. The choice had come down to cleaning tables in the pub across the street or working in a ticket booth at the station. She hated the smell of alcohol and the idea of cleaning up after others when she had enough of a time cleaning up after herself wasn't very appealing, either. The relative cleanliness that the ticket job would offer had seemed enough to make it worthwhile. At first, that was.  
  
The more she thought about it now, in the short breaks between the crowds of travelers who queued up outside her booth, at least she'd be able to *talk* to people at a pub. Maybe even laugh once in a while. Selling tickets didn't afford much opportunity for conversation, unless endlessly repeating ticket prices and occasionally redirecting lost customers to a different gate counted as a meaningful chat.  
  
The next wave of people swept in through the doors, maneuvering through the terminals with practiced ease. When things slowed down in between the trains, the dullness of sitting in the booth become so monotonous that the only thing left to do was stare at the people who went past, seeing if she could divine who they were and where they were headed. When things got extremely boring, she would make up stories about them, mostly just to keep herself awake.  
  
A sudden jolt behind her startled her enough to spin around, eyes wide in surprise. The door to her booth slid open with a slight screech of metal where the tracking needed to be oiled, revealing Milly, the girl who worked the next booth over.  
  
"God, Milly, you scared the life out of me! Could you knock or something next time?"  
  
Milly giggled, her flat blonde curls bobbing against her face. "Oi, just thought I'd stop in to say goodbye before I left, my shift's over. 'Sides, the supervisor asked me to give you the standard speech before it starts."  
  
"How kind of you. What speech? Didn't I hear enough of them when they hired me?" The training for her job had mostly consisted of a series of lectures from various station staff about dealing with customers, money procedures and that sort of thing, but they had lasted for so long that she had felt as if her ears were going to pop off before they finished.  
  
"Of course, but today's special. I always forget that you don't know what to do sometimes, Cindy. All the kids going off to school again, it's a big day. Expect it to be crowded, make sure you tell 'em the right gate so they don't come back five minutes later to ask you where they were supposed to be. Oh, and when the nutters start asking where 9 and 3/4 is, just tell 'em it doesn't exist, someone's been joking with 'em. All right? See you tomorrow!" Milly started to step out the rear of the booth, squeezing through the small door.  
  
"Wait a minute! What? 9 and 3/4? What's that?"  
  
"Every year on back-to-school day, you'll get a bunch of loonies looking for Platform 9 and 3/4. They told me last year, and I didn't believe it, then they started coming. Some of them argue with you, tell you they were told to meet there, try to get testy with you. I don't know, somebody must think it's funny."  
  
"Oof, just what I need, more people who don't know where they're going." She sighed, noticing the line that was beginning to form outside the booth once more. "All right, off with you. Have a nice day, see you tomorrow." She shooed Milly outside and closed the door behind her, pasting on a smile once more as she turned to the queue.  
  
"Two pounds, please. Thank you, straight through."  
  
"Two pounds, please. Thank you, straight through."  
  
"Tw-"  
  
"Excuse me, miss, but can you direct me to.." [It begins, she thought.] "Platform seven?"  
  
She sighed almost imperceptibly. "Go right, it's the third one on your left."  
  
"Two pounds, please. Thank you, straight through."  
  
This continued on for quite some time, with no changes to her normal routine. Parents and children weighted down with bags and trunks passed her, entering and exiting the terminals, meeting up with classmates. The only unusual thing she'd noticed so far was a boy with a knit cap and scarf, which was only strange because it was nearly seventy degrees inside the station. At last, the line before her booth died down, a momentary lull in traffic. She leaned against the counter, happy for a few moments' rest.  
  
Another group of students and parents meandered past as she idly watched the crowds. These were a bit more interesting, if only because several of the children were carrying large birdcages. She'd never heard of a school that allowed pets, but things were changing since she'd graduated four years ago. She glanced at the luggage that the students temporarily abandoned as they looked around. Funny, the birds almost looked like.. owls?  
  
[I didn't think owls were tame.. suppose they could be, though.]  
  
Her thoughts were interrupted by a few of the students who were heading towards her stand. A group of four boys, they looked about sixteen or seventeen years old. They appeared to be deliberating something between them, until two stood aside and the other two continued heading for her. They were both tall and dark-haired, though one had messy short hair and the other, shoulder-length and straight. Brothers, perhaps?  
  
"Excuse me, miss, but can you point me in the direction of Platform 9 and 3/4? It is most imperative that I am not late for the train." Long Hair was speaking to her, as Short Hair appeared to be trying not to laugh.  
  
"Er.. there, uh.. there is no Platform 9 and 3/4. You must be mistaken." *These* were what she'd been warned of? Teenage boys playing a prank?  
  
"But Miss, I am assured that it exists! Surely *you* must be mistaken!" The boy's eyes were full of laughter, even as he tried very hard to keep a straight face. His companion, however, didn't seem to find it quite as funny. He was hissing into his friend's ear. She tried to listen without appearing to do so, and caught the words "Uggle.. baiting.. trouble.. late!"  
  
Behind the two, a young girl and two adults had lined up, waiting their turn.  
  
"Excuse me, but if you two are done being utterly silly, I have customers." She craned her head to see past them, and asked the girl's parents what they needed.  
  
The mother looked down at a sheet of paper, and with a slight blush, asked "Could you direct us to Platform 9 and 3/4? We have to meet the train.." The man behind her, presumably her husband, looked around nervously.  
  
[They don't look crazy..]  
  
She adopted her best authoritative voice. "Madame, as I have just told the young men before you, there is a Platform 9, and also a Platform 10, but there is nothing between them. Is this some sort of joke?"  
  
At the embarassed and confused look on the mother's face, she felt a twinge of guilt. She wasn't sure what to do, perhaps check their tickets? Call her supervisor?  
  
"Er, madam, I'll be happy to assist you."  
  
From behind the family, another young man appeared, looking earnestly at the young girl and her parents. He showed a friendly smile and brushed back some of the curtain of brown hair that obscured his eyes.  
  
She recognized him as being with the other three boys, though he hadn't come forward with the two that had asked her about the nonexistant platform. He had stayed back with his chubby friend. She didn't quite understand how he was going to help the family, however. His friends had gathered behind him, one snickering about "Moony, always there to help the less fortunate."  
  
"Can you really help us?" asked the young girl. "Mum and Dad have no idea what's going on, and I don't want to miss the train to-"  
  
"Yes, of course. You're a first year, aren't you? My name is Remus, I'm- well, all of us, really - are fifth years. What's your name?" He was grabbing his own luggage as he asked, and motioning for his friends to follow him.  
  
"Lindsey, it's very nice to meet you! When I got the letter, I was shocked! My mum and dad hardly believed it when the owl..." The conversation faded as they walked away.  
  
"That boy would have so much more fun if he didn't have to be so bloody nice, you know that, James?" The long-haired boy had turned to his compatriot, only to find that he had wandered away to talk to a girl with red hair who was struggling to keep the lid on a basket that apparently contained.. something alive, that was definite. The case kept moving around in the girl's arms. [Ick, I hope it's not something disgusting..]  
  
"Sirius, shouldn't we be going? The Express is going to leave in a little while, and you lot could spend all day wandering around the station!" The chubby boy was pointing at the group they had arrived with, who had all wandered away into the far terminal. Chubby was struggling to balance a trunk and a sack full of candy, from the looks of it. His eyes lit up at the sight of a long leather case on the floor before him, which he hurriedly g grabbed. Rushing over to the wild-haired boy, he yelled out to him.  
  
"James! James! Here! You don't want to leave your broo-"  
  
"SHUT UP, Peter! This isn't the place to talk about it!" The red-haired girl who had been quite cozily chatting with James admonished this Peter while taking the case off him.  
  
She took a closer look at the case. A brew? Boo? What was it? Squinting her eyes, she could make out the words "Nimbus 500" in sparkling gold embossing. A Nimbus? Nimbus.. the word was familiar.. Something to do with weather? Before she could think about it, her head jerked up at the sight of something flying across the terminal.  
  
"Catch, Black!"  
  
The flying object appeared to be a red ball, thank goodness. The boy they had called Sirius jumped up to catch it as it careened through the air toward him, dropping his trunk as he did so. The luggage fell to the floor, landing on the chubby boy's foot, causing him to yelp in pain and bump into the basket that the red-haired girl had set down on the floor. The lid of the basket lifted up enough to see the contents: a rather rattled-looking grey cat, yelping in pain.  
  
Pets weren't allowed on most of the trains, not that it seemed to matter anymore. Thankful for the lack of customers, she continued to lean against the counter, watching the antics of the students.  
  
Sirius managed to avoid the confusion behind him, grinning at a boy who was running over to him. "Hey, Asok, what *is* this?"  
  
"What the hell do you think it is, Black? It's a quaffle."  
  
Black snorted. "Of course it's a quaffle, I meant, why did you give it to me?"  
  
Smirking, Asok spun the ball around. Barely visible were the signs of several autographs. "I figured I owed you one since I got you in that mess with Professor Kettleburn and the acromantula story." At the look of incomprehension from the other, he continued, "It's a game-used ball. Signed by every player on the Falcons. Look, there's Wimbly, and that hot chick, the keeper, Rhyannon Glenn!"  
  
As understanding set in, the look of awe on Sirius' face was incredible. "HOW did you GET this?"  
  
"Falmouth practices a couple blocks from my uncle's house. They invited me to visit for two weeks, so I checked out the summer training sessions. I saw some of the tryouts- you will not BELIEVE who tried out! John St. Giles, that Slytherin who graduated last year!" Laughter rang out between the two of them.  
  
[Is there a sports team in Falmouth?]  
  
"That moron? He can barely fly! He should have tried out for the Cannons!"  
  
[Fly? Cannons? What is this, a circus?]  
  
"WILL YOU TWO HURRY UP?! The train is leaving in less than TEN MINUTES!" The red-haired girl, who appeared to have salvaged her cat, grabbed hold of the two boys and began to drag them down the terminal with the others. "Asok! I don't believe you! Sirius, I would expect to be late, but you're a prefect!"  
  
"Whoa, Lily, calm down. We'll make it!" The Indian boy's actions belied his words, however, as he grabbed his own luggage and began to jog away, calling for Sirius to join him.  
  
"EXCUSE ME, Miss." The tapping of fingers on the counter brought her attention back to the booth, rather than the unusual scene in the terminal. As she looked out, she noticed that a line had formed out of thin air, with ten people giving her angry looks and glaring pointedly at their watches.  
  
"Oh, pardon me. Two pounds, please. Thank you, straight through."  
  
"Two pounds, please. Thank you, straight through."  
  
"Tw- Oh, can I help you?"  
  
"Uh, yes, miss.. er, can you direct us to Platform 9 and 3/4?"  
  
[Not again..] 


End file.
